


We Keep Moving

by Uncontinuous (nights_fang)



Series: We Keep Moving [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Community: comment_fic, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-26
Updated: 2011-05-26
Packaged: 2017-10-19 19:27:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/204413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nights_fang/pseuds/Uncontinuous
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They're not okay, but they'll keep moving.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Keep Moving

**Author's Note:**

> Set post 5.22 "Swan Song". Written for comment_fic prompt: any, any, "and sometimes it's not worth trying/ Cause I'm tired of living but I'm scared of dying"

It's Adam's three week anniversary of being pulled out from Hell, Archangel Michael-free, and back to living a _normal_ life. Sam had left in search of Dean the moment they were brought back to life. The bastard angel Zachariah was right; those guys were even erotically co-dependent on each other. ( _Bitter_ about being left behind? Who? Adam? He certainly isn’t.) Adam's celebrating his third lease on life by getting supplies for his road trip to bumfuck nowhere, and more booze to help him cope. He's just exited the local supermarket when Adam runs into him. Or rather, the guy trips over his own two feet and tumbles straight into Adam.

Adam may be archangel possession free, but he still has parts of Michael's grace inside him, unfortunately. So he can tell the guy who's landed on top of him is not normal. He reeks of fallen grace, the same grace Adam has the displeasure of knowing as Lucifer, sulphur, and demon blood. The guy also reeks of booze, trash, blood, vomit, and... Well he just _smells_.

He tells himself that it's his mother's training of helping someone who obviously needs it, and _not_ Michael's left over grace in him reaching out to care for anything that holds something of his beloved brother, that makes Adam drag the guy back to the motel room he’s currently crashing at. It’s _not_ Michael’s leftover grace itching to care for his brother that makes Adam deposit the guy on the bed. He keeps up the mental chant as he wipes the grime on the guy’s (he vaguely remembers reading Michael’s thoughts about the guy’s name being Rick or something similar) body. He disinfects the wounds the way his mother had shown him, before leaving the guy to rest and going to the nearby chemist to get more medical supplies for the guy’s wounds.

  
He keeps up the chant with utter ferocity when the guy wakes up and promptly throws up on the carpet, creating more work for Adam, and adding to his tab.

  


***

  


  
The guy’s name is Nick, not Rick, and it’s official, he’s had the shittiest year ever. He tells Adam about it in between wincing and sipping cold water, half expecting Adam to pass it off as delusions of a drunk, and throw him out in the morning. Adam doesn’t, because he _knows_.

  
Nick stays, much to his own surprise, and to his relief. Adam likes company. He figures Nick could probably use some company too. It’s not as if they have anyone else in the world looking out for them, anyway. Might as well look out for each other.

  
It’s their decision, _not_ Michael’s or Lucifer’s.

***

  
It’s barely a few days in, or weeks Adam’s lost count. Between trying to live in general, everything else has become a blur. Nick’s still getting used to having control of his body. Lucifer rode him for nearly a year, and he really did some damage. The left-over grace is a boon in a way because it gives Nick super healing abilities, but it makes Nick taking control of his body a harder feat. Some days he can walk without help, others he can barely move his fingers, and Adam has to help him with everything, so that Nick doesn’t have to use Lucifer’s left over grace to help himself function.

He’s still adamant on moving around, and makes a good deal of effort. This would be well and good, if he didn’t have the problem about controlling his body movements yet, but he does. Adam isn’t usually one to bring someone down. He’s not stupid as to be blind as to realise why Nick does this. And while Adam appreciates it, fucking admires it, he could also really, really do with Nick not losing his balance in the middle of something and just folding in on himself suddenly. The guy’s heavy, and Adam himself is sort of a lightweight, so it becomes a major feat to drag Nick to the nearest bed or couch and settle him in there.

  
Adam still lets him try anyway, because Nick needs it. Adam needs it too.

***

  
Nick has nightmares. After everything he’s gone through, it’s obvious, he’d get them. Except sometimes, Nick screams in his sleep. Not those cliché horror movie screams, but a mixture of blood-curdling, and lost and broken. Sometimes he sounds like _Lucifer_ , and Adam has to clamp down on everything Michael still inside himself to Not. Do. Anything. Because he knows that nothing he does will help, they’ll just make things _worse_.

Adam only gets nightmares when he sleeps. He rarely sleeps these days. Passes out unconscious and drunk if often, but actual sleep is rare.

***

  
Being Archangel Michael’s former vessel post the hit and miss Apocalypse is like wearing a big fat shiny red bulls-eye saying ‘Here I am’ to every supernatural creature in the world who has a grudge against the angels. Adam discovered this barely two days into his new life. He may not be a hunter, but he has an excellent memory; which reminds him of that one conversation he’d had with John where John told him about always having salt lining any open space in the house to ward away evil. At that time Adam had shrugged it off as superstition, now Adam knows different. Now there’s rock salt lining the windows and door of whichever motel room he stays. There’s a fuckton of books about anything supernatural he’s gone through, just so that he knows how to stay safe. There’s a knife in his left boot, with a Latin exorcism incantation inscribed on the blade. There’s him channelling Michael’s left-over grace to simply stay alive, when whatever new is chasing him this time, actually gets him.

Nick, having had the displeasure of housing Lucifer, has a bigger bulls-eye on him. He also has a really good aim, and a knack for dead languages, and memory of being ridden by Lucifer which he uses to the fullest to help himself survive.

  
They both have the will to live no matter what. Being an archangel vessel does that to you. If they die, it’s on their own terms. Otherwise, they’ll survive like fucking _cockroaches_ if they have too.

***

  
Nick drinks a lot. Adam doesn’t mind. Most days, he spends most of his evenings drunk too. He figures, between the two of them they have every reason too. He was eaten by a ghoul along with his mother. Nick had his family killed by a serial killer in a home-invasion. They’ve both been vessels for the fucking asshole _Archangels_ Michael and Lucifer, survived a goddamned Apocalypse, and currently have every supernatural creature ever currently on their asses. Yep they both have very good reasons to not be sober.

They actually really need therapy. Except as Nick drunkenly points out, therapists who deal with helping a patient get through Archangel possession probably don’t exist. They share a hollow laugh, and proceed to get more drunk.

***

  
In another day of their lives where the Universe shows them just how much it loves fucking them over, they’re being chased by _demons_. They’ve holed themselves up in the nearest safe space they could find. And if the world doesn’t hate them enough already, Nick is twitching uncontrollably, muttering about demon blood.

  
Not only is Nick an alcoholic – Adam ignores the fact that he too is one these days – but apparently he’s a demon vampire cum demon blood junkie too. Just. Fucking. Peachy.

  
Adam really hates the world.

  
They manage to get away, but with a fuckton of collateral. Nick actually gave in to his craving for demon blood, so only a few of the hosts survived. Now he’s in the bathroom of their newest motel room, trying to throw up whatever he ingested.

  
Add one more problem to their list of their fucked up lives that therapy cannot cure. Getting drunk tonight, it is then.

***

  
Adam really hates poltergeists. More than any other supernatural creature, that’s come after him. Even ghouls, which you know _ate_ him. He really does. He does not appreciate currently having to deal with them. Nick and him have also had the week from hell considering well they were chased by demons again (the bastards just don’t give up) just last week. Nick is tied down to the bed, a ring of salt surrounding it. Adam doesn’t want attempting to puke out his insides again, while trying to get rid of the demon blood he ingested. (Except this time he _didn’t_ ingest any blood. He hasn’t ingested it for a long time. He just keeps thinking he has.) He’s screaming for Adam to let him out.

The poltergeist haunting the abandoned house they’ve taken refuge in does not help matters. Adam does not appreciate trying to be killed on any day. And today is really the worst day the damn thing could have picked to try, and kill him.

  
He hunts down the thing. Traps it, the way he remembers the book he read had explained it. And uses Michael’s grace to obliterate the thing with extreme fucking prejudice. It’s overkill, he knows it. He. Does. Not. _Care_. It screams as it dies.

  
It’s not loud enough to drown out Nick’s screams.

***

  
More than one and a half years later, they’re still being chased by every supernatural thing ever with a grudge. They both have a raging alcohol problem. Adam still is bitter about everything, and Nick still has his demon blood addiction to deal with. They both still have identity issues about when they were possessed, not to mention the fuckton of other issues which just keep piling on. They’ve been stabbed at, shot at, and nearly killed more times that it should even be healthy. They don’t have a home.

  
And they’re currently visiting the graves of Nick’s wife and kid on the anniversary of their deaths.

  
They’re not okay. They’ll probably never be okay. They have nothing worth living for. But they’re not going to die, unless it’s on their own terms.


End file.
